Les rubbed his stubbled jaw. “You wouldn’t have to do the fall anyway. We’d use a stunt person.” He snickered. “Can’t have you risking any broken bones, can we?”
He took out a soiled handkerchief and blew his nose. “The dust in here is killing me. I may sue your parents. Really.”
Before I could say anything, he spun away and strode back to the man he’d been arguing with. Shouting and gesturing, he picked up the argument where it had left off.
I turned to Delia. I felt a little more like myself. Les really did make me feel better about the scene.
We walked over to the catering table and had some papaya juice. I devoured a cranberry muffin. I was suddenly starving for some reason. Delia, the Cupcake Queen, said she didn’t have any appetite at all.
Actually, she’s a good friend,
I thought.
Someone who would pass up a muffin because she’s worried about me.
When Les called everyone to the set, I felt the tension sweep over me again. My stomach felt heavy. I wished I hadn’t had that muffin.
“Come on, people!” he shouted. “You’re not getting paid to loiter. That’s
my
job.”
We all followed Les to the front stairway. The stairs were carpeted, but the carpet was torn and stained, and the dark wood on some steps showed through ragged holes.
My throat tightened, and I suddenly felt dizzy as the stairway scene in the original film played through my mind. And once again, I saw Darlene drop into the open step. I saw her body slide down till her head caught on the stair frame. And heard the
crack
of her neck as it broke, killing her instantly.
Wow.
Killing her for real. That poor actress. What a hideous death she had.
Two crew members in baggy jeans and sleeveless t-shirts were halfway up the stairs, on their hands and knees, working to staple microphone cords in place. I guessed Les wanted to get the
thud
of the shoes as we ran up to the second floor.
Annalee stepped up beside Delia and me. She flashed me a smile. I recognized it. It was a victory smile.
I win and you lose, Claire.
“Do you two have any lines?” she asked. “I don’t say anything. I just run up the stairs after Brian and Tony and you two.”
“It’s just a running scene,” I said. “I think we’re too scared to say anything. We just want to get upstairs.”
She nodded. “Well, don’t trip. Those stairs look nasty.”
Good advice. What would we do without her?
I turned and watched as the two crew guys finished up and came lumbering down the stairs. One of them stopped and said something to Les. Then he followed his partner to the side.
Les turned to us. “Okay. A run-through. Sorry to keep everyone waiting. You know the drill. You’re terrified. You’re desperate to get upstairs. Claire leads the way.”
He scratched his head. Gave his clipboard a quick glance. Then motioned to me. “You ready? Okay. Look frightened. Good. That’s good. Now run.”
I took a deep breath, locked a terrified expression on my face—and started toward the stairs.
32
ANOTHER DEATH IN THE HOUSE
LES BACHMAN STOPPED ME BEFORE I reached the steps. I was breathing hard, my shoulders heaving up and down, even though I hadn’t started to run.
“Whoa. Hold up,” he said. “Before we do this run-through, maybe I should explain it better.” He took my chin in his hand and tilted my head up toward the top of the stairway. “See? Up there?”
“Huh?” I stared up the stairs. What was Les showing me?
“That’s a camera up there,” Les said, finally letting go of my chin. “We’re filming from the top and the side of the stairs. So, Claire, dear, as you run, don’t look up. Don’t look at the camera.”
“But if I’m running up the stairs, I
have
to look up,” I insisted. “Don’t you look where you’re going when you go up stairs?”
“Just don’t look at the camera,” Les said. “Dart your eyes from side to side. You’re terrified, remember? And look behind you as you climb. You want to see what your friends are doing.”
I nodded. “Got it.”
“Same goes for the rest of you,” Les barked, turning to the two boys, Delia, and Annalee. “You four follow Claire. So keep your eyes on her. If you look in the camera, no one will believe you’re afraid. They’ll all think you’re in on the joke. Know what I’m saying?”
We all muttered yes.
“Can I ask a question?” My voice came out tiny and high.
Les nodded. “Shoot.”
I hesitated. “You told me before, but just tell me again.” I pointed toward the top. “The stair doesn’t give in, right? I don’t fall into an open step?”
Les shook his head from side to side. “Claire, Claire, Claire.” He chuckled. “I told you this ten minutes ago. Why are you so frightened? Would I allow one of my stars to fall into an open step? Of course I wouldn’t.”
I was breathing hard. I couldn’t help it. I felt right on the edge of total panic. No way to fight it back.
“Sorry,” I said to Les. “I saw the original film, and—”
“Here. Watch me,” Les said. He handed his clipboard to an assistant. “I’ll climb the stairs. I’ll show you they are perfectly safe. Sorry you don’t trust me.” He grumbled some words under his breath.
“No. I do. I
do,
” I protested. I stepped in front of the stairway to block his path. “You don’t have to climb the stairs. I can do it. I’m sorry. I mean, sorry for holding everyone up. Let’s do it.”
Les nodded. He took back his clipboard. “Places, everyone. Get your expressions on. You’re terrified, remember. You’ve got to show it as you follow Claire up the stairs.”
He groaned. “Come on, people. This is the
easy
shot. Wait till you see what I have planned for you upstairs in the
next
scene.”
I tensed my muscles. I struggled to stop trembling. My stomach rumbled.
I knew I was being crazy. The whole shot would take less than thirty seconds. Look scared. Run to the top. Don’t look in the camera.
Easy as banana cream pie,
as my mom would say.
I turned and flashed Delia a thumbs-up.
She nodded and forced a smile. Beside her, Annalee pulled down the front of her shift so her boobs would show more. She ran her hands back through her silky black hair, then shook her hair out.
“Okay. Action,” Les said, backing away.
I tensed my arms at my sides. I balled my hands into tight fists. I took a few steps toward the stairway, then stopped.
I tried to hold them back. But when I turned to Les, tears filled my eyes. “I’m sorry,” I uttered. “I’m having so much trouble here.” I motioned toward the stairs. “I just have such a bad feeling.”
Suddenly, I saw Annalee brush past Delia. She trotted over to me, then moved toward the steps. “Watch me, Claire,” she said. “I’ll do it for you. Look. There’s nothing to it.”
“Annalee—” Les called.
“No. Wait—” I called.
But she wanted to show everyone how much better she was than me. She was already on the stairs. Already running full speed, one hand sliding up the slender banister. Her straight black hair bobbed behind her. Her shoes thudded the wooden steps hard.
She reached the top in a few seconds. Then she turned and gestured to me with a pleased smile. “See? Easy.”
She started down. One step. Two steps. Then she appeared to stumble.
Her hands flew up. Her mouth opened in a scream, a
terrifying,
shrill animal scream. I know I’ll hear it forever.
Annalee dropped fast.
The top of the step—it cracked and splintered. And she fell into it. Fell into the open step and dropped, screaming. Screaming a horrible animal wail.
The scream ended with a sick
craaack
. The sound of her neck snapping.
Frozen in horror, I stared up at Annalee’s head.
Only her head was visible now, caught on the stair edge. Her head with its green eyes bulging open. Her head. Only her head.
Her mouth, still wide open for its final scream, closed slowly. And then her head sank out of sight.
I covered my eyes with both hands and, my whole body shaking violently, I sank to my knees.
33
FINISH THE FILM?
DELIA AND I KNEW THAT CUPCAKES wouldn’t help this time. So we drove to The Cheesecake Factory on Beverly and ordered humongous wedges of chocolate-chip cheesecake piled high with whipped cream.
Whenever tragedy struck, we sank into a deep depression for days. Then how did we pull ourselves out of it? We went out to eat something sinful.
Okay. I know it’s lame. Tell me about it. But come on. Haven’t you ever wanted to drown your sorrows in cheesecake?
If only we had boyfriends. I know, that’s not the answer to anything. But, wow, they could have distracted us from our dreary thoughts.
All week, Jake acted totally wrecked by Annalee’s death. Maybe he really cared about her. But the way he kept trying to get Delia to comfort him made me wonder.
I tried to get his attention. I went over to his house to have a serious talk with him. But Shawn was there, getting in my face, being annoying.
Finally, I snapped at him, “Shawn, what do you
want
?”
He flashed me a toothy grin. “I want to rock your world.”
Oh, gross.
Why can’t guys take a hint and get lost when you want them to?
As for Jake, I was ready to give up. The whole situation made me think of one of my mom’s weird expressions: “You’re barking up a brick wall.” And that’s what I was doing with Jake. Barking up a brick wall. Two magic potions hadn’t helped me. What a mistake they were. He is into Delia, and thinks of me as a sister, and what else is there to say about it?
“I should have gotten the cherry cheesecake,” I said. “It’s even more sinful.”
“We’ll order some of that when we finish this,” Delia said, wiping a chunk off her chin. “Is it possible to get high on cheesecake? I think I’m totally high on it.”
And then … I don’t know how it happened. I can’t explain it. Suddenly, my shoulders shook, and I started to cry.
I was totally surprised. The fork slipped from my hand, and I sobbed, loud, wracking sobs. I couldn’t catch my breath. I couldn’t stop my shoulders from jerking up and down. Sob after sob escaped my throat.
I turned in the booth, turned to the wall. But people had already seen me. I didn’t really care. I just wanted to stop crying. I’m not the kind of person who goes out of control, and I
hated
it.
I felt an arm around my shoulders. I hadn’t realized that Delia had slid in beside me. She hugged me tight, and as I turned, I saw that she was crying, too.
Tears burned my eyes. I choked, trying to breathe. We held on to each other and cried. We’d seen so much horror, so much death in the past few weeks.
I didn’t cry at Annalee’s funeral. I forced it back. I bit my lips and forced my tears back. I kept telling myself I didn’t like her.
I
didn’t
like Annalee. But what happened to her was horrifying and wrong. Still, I wasn’t going to cry at her funeral.
And then my whole body trembled and I couldn’t stop shaking at the sight of her parents standing over her grave, both of them wailing at the top of their lungs, tossing their hands above their heads and wailing, wailing out their grief.
And now all the horror was coming out. I couldn’t hold it inside. All my fright, all the hideous things I’d seen, the people dead, young people … All too horrible to understand.
And there I was squeezed beside Delia in the red vinyl booth, the half-eaten hunk of cheesecake in front of me, sobbing, struggling to stop, sobbing, painful, wrenching sobs.
“It … was supposed to be me,” I whispered. “Not Annalee. It was supposed to be me. My neck. My head. It could have been, Delia. It was supposed to be me.”
I swallowed hard, swallowed again, trying to get control. My cheeks were hot and soaking wet from tears. My throat ached from crying.
I suddenly realized someone stood at our booth. I gazed up to see the waitress standing there, hands clasped in front of her.
“Is something wrong with the cheesecake?” she asked.
Delia started to laugh. Soft at first but then a high, trilling laugh. And I couldn’t help myself. I joined in. It was so absurd.
Something wrong with the cheesecake?
The laughter rose up from deep in my chest. And now, Delia and I were holding on to each other, laughing and laughing until more tears rolled down our faces.
The waitress stood watching us, her lips pressed together, a stern expression on her face. She was a big girl, short blond hair, small eyes close together on a round, not-pretty face. Her uniform was tight around the middle. She’d probably been sampling a lot of cheesecake.
She didn’t get the joke. And she probably thought we were
really
high, not just on cheesecake.
I think she was ready to call the manager or throw us out or something. I didn’t blame her. We were crying and laughing at the same time, acting like total nuts.
Ross Harper slid into the booth across from us. I hadn’t seen him since his pool party. Startled, Delia and I both stopped our insane laughter.
“What’s the joke?” Ross asked, settling into the booth. “Let me in on it. Must be a pretty good one.”
“There’s no joke. Really,” I said, wiping my wet cheeks with a napkin.
The waitress turned to Ross. “Get you anything, sir?”
He glanced down at our half-eaten cheesecake slices. “No thanks. Just some sparkling water.”
She gave us a final stern look, then walked off to get the water.
Ross picked up Delia’s fork and sliced up a chunk of her cheesecake. “Do you mind?” He started chewing it before she could answer. “You should have gotten the Rocky Road.”
“We didn’t know you were coming,” Delia said. “We would have ordered your favorite.”
Ross took another bite. “I heard your horror film is history. Over.”
“Like my movie career,” I said, sighing. “That didn’t last long, did it?”
“Shut up,” Delia said. “You’re talented. You’ll get other parts.”